Lost in a Concrete Jungle
by Eleanor Lyon
Summary: Homeless!Rachel. Rachel finds herself broke and living on the streets of New York city after a rash decision to spend all her funds in making her "Broadway Dream" a reality. When everything looks lost, who can save her from herself? Rated M just in case.
1. The Audition

**A.N.  
><strong>**This is the first fanfiction I've ever written. The idea came to me during my English exam, and originally I had an anonymous woman narrating, however I then edited and added a few bits here and there to make it more Rachel Berry-esque.****  
>Hopefully, it's worked out okay! I love reviews, but honestly, I'm just hoping for readers in the first place, so I'm not too bothered if you don't review.<br>Anyway! For anybody who is reading this: _Thankyou_, from the bottom of my heart. I simply cannot express my gratitude enough. =) **

**I hope you enjoy the story!**

**xox Eleanor Lyon.**

* * *

><p>Rachel clutched at the moth-eaten shawl covering her too-thin frame as the wind gusted through the over crowded streets of New York City. The grey clouds which were settled high above the skyscrapers reflected the mood of those dwelling below and was but a fore-shadowing of the harsh winter inevitably approaching. Rachel sighed heavily as she lowered herself to the edge of the pavement. Her breath crystallised before her eyes as she did so.<p>

It was her first year living out on the streets of NYC. Of course, she had never expected this to be her. Dreams which had once seemed tangible had all but crumbled like ash falling from a cigarette. Like so many others, she had come to New York seeking the thrill of the stage. An auditorium packed full of adoring fans and potential admirers. Bouquets of roses waiting for her after each show. Offer upon offer from agents and producers wanting, no, _yearning _for talent that only she, Rachel Berry, could deliver.

_Broadway!_ The name which called to Rachel's heart of hearts. If there was anyone who could have broken into the business, she was determined that it would be her. She was Rachel Berry, the shining star of Lima, Ohio. Her peers had always told her she was destined for the stage and she had believed so as well. It seemed like as much of a fact as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west. That was back in Lima though. Finn had been right all along, they were only Lima, Ohio good. She had been a fool to believe in the hyperbole that surrounded New York. She was too rash, too confident in her own abilities. She had not taken into account all of those who had the same vision, but were more competitive and talented than herself. Because, let's be truthful, who could possibly have been more talented than her? Well, it turned out _they_ could.

They had finesse, poise, precision. Every action, every word, every gesture held a depth and meaning that she could not manage to evoke. Rachel had been unprepared and naïve. She couldn't tap-dance, she couldn't do high kicks and flips. How had she thought that she would have been snapped up for a role in the first few months? How did she let herself believe that the judges would hire her immediately? She was so lost in her dreams of ambition that she had overlooked the finer details. Yet again she had forgotten to account for the consequences of her impetuous decisions…

Palms sweating, knees quivering, Rachel had shakily made her way up to the small stage and faced her critics. The spotlight shone down, blindingly bright. Why was she so nervous? She thrived off the spotlight! The accompaniment began, the notes of the piano echoing in the vast expanse of the theatre. The cue struck… And nothing. No sound came forth from her vocal cords.  
><em>No,<em> she thought, _No, no, no! This could _not_ be happening to her right now! She needed this!_ The critics waited, shifting impatiently in their seats.  
>They had viewed her credentials; nothing more than her lead role as Maria in McKinley High's musical of West Side Story, a few other community musicals and a referral letter from a source not renowned enough to have any substantial credit or influence on these men.<p>

After all, this was Broadway. Not a stage in Lima. Here they settled for nothing less than the best. And Rachel could not possibly cope if they told her that she did not belong here. All her life she had _craved_ to belong here. She had sacrificed everything for this; her meagre life savings and college fund, her relationship with Finn which had crashed and burned after she had pushed him too far, her friendship with Kurt who had stayed in Lima to help coach New Directions and earn money for his fashion design course as a barista at the Lima Bean, the chance of returning home to her Dads because she did not have enough funds for the trip home, and her chances of getting into NYADA since she no longer had enough money to pay for tuition. She could not afford to be shut down right now. She needed this like she needed air to breathe!  
>But the judges didn't know that. How could they? And even if they did, they wouldn't have cared… She should have expected their reaction. But she was naïve; she still believed the best in people.<p>

"Enough!" one of the critics – a completely bald middle aged man in black framed glasses - had shouted after her third attempt at "I Feel Pretty".  
>"Honey, listen. You need to know this. You're no longer in your little house on the Prairie. This is the real world." His voice was condescending and laced with boredom, "You can't just waltz into a Broadway audition with shoddy credentials and references, then screw over one of the most basic musical songs created. You understand?"<br>He paused. Rachel nodded.  
>"Don't expect <em>us<em> to hire _you_, when all you have going for you is that you look like a younger version of Barbra Streisand and got a main role once or twice in a community theatre production. None of that means shit here, sweetheart. Here,_ in New York_, you're nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zero. Not until you prove yourself. You understand?"

Another pause. Another nod.

"Good." He sighed, "Now next time, remember where you are. And get the hell off my stage before I call pest control to get rid of you instead."

And that was that. There was nothing more to say. She took her sheet music and slowly made her way out of the spotlight's glare.

That's what she got for being a pipe dreamer. An unfair dismissal when all she needed was to be given a chance. But here you don't get second chances. It's a dog-eat-dog world in show business. And choosing to be the nice guy, well, that just didn't work in your favour. No matter what happened, she would be shot down. And as unfair as it was, no one else cared. To them there were worse things to worry about than some washed-up no-hoper. Even though all of their judgements weren't true, it didn't matter. It just happened.

So here she was, wallowing in the filth of New York… Never to be seen on the bill-boards in Time square. Never to have "RACHEL BERRY" lit up by lights…Her dreams were over.

Rachel shivered again, but this time there was no wind. Only the sense of pure isolation.


	2. Hunger

**Hello!  
>I'm Eleanor Lyon and "Lost in a Concrete Jungle" is my debut piece of fanfiction.<strong>

**First, thanks for even considering reading this fic and thank you for continuing! I didn't think I would have any readers when I published this, so having anyone read it at all is beyond exciting!  
>Second, I actually don't have a beta for this fic as of yet, therefore my writing is pretty dodgy. There will be typos, spelling mistakes, grammatical errors and discontinued trains of thought. I'm sorry, believe me, I hate all of those too. However, if anyone is willing to take on the job, just offer, I promise I won't bite. I'd probably send you flowers in the mail actually! <strong>

**If you're interested at all you can contact me at my personal blog on tumblr. The link for that is on my profile.  
><strong>

**I'll be posting chapters of "Lost in a Concrete Jungle" there as well.**

**Cheers in advance to anyone who reviews! I love you dearly! I'm not fussed if I don't get reviews, but I still love feedback, especially constructive criticism and plot ideas. If you're more comfortable giving feedback through tumblr instead though, then that's completely fine!**

**I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. =)**

**Xox Eleanor**

The savoury scent of chicken and sweet corn soup wafted from the Goodwill shelter's broad double doors, a teasing predecessor of the meal being served up to the less fortunate that night. The shuffling bodies huddled in their makeshift clothes as they lined up for what may possibly be their first meal in a week.

As Rachel joined the queue of strangers, she remembered having once said that there was a quiet dignity in being homeless. She scoffed inwardly. Seeing this struggling crowd and living on the streets for the comparatively short time that she had, she now knew first-hand how ridiculous she had been in her assumptions before coming here.

For the first few weeks after she had been outed from her apartment, she had absolutely refused to scavenge in dumpsters for food remnants. No, she was determined not to sink so low. If Sam could do it, so could she, right? Rachel Berry would maintain _her_ dignity, no matter the adversity. She could find a way out of this. At least that's what she had convinced herself in the beginning, before the hunger pains set in.

They were agonising. At first it was just a hollow feeling and niggling pains in her gut. But, as time passed, the symptoms worsened. Debilitating aches racked through her abdomen as her body protested at the lack of food. More often than not, Rachel found herself curled up on the sidewalk in the foetal position, whimpering in pain as she clutched her torso waiting for the cramps to subside so that she could move again. It was times like those she found herself praying her Dads would miraculously find her and sweep her away with them back home to Lima. After a while she figured out that, even though she couldn't fill herself up with solid food, she_ could_ fill herself up with water. She sought relief in the water of public drinking fountains, but the relief was only short lived and could not satiate the hunger that gnawed at her belly. Even in her disgust it hadn't been long before she too had given in and resorted to searching trash cans for morsels of food. By that time she had lost most of her inhibitions due to the over-whelming instinct for self-preservation anyway. Had that made her a different person somehow? The Rachel Berry she was before she left Lima would never, ever have done that, unless of course, her acting career depended on it. She knew she would do anything for her that.

Hunger hadn't just afflicted her body though; it had made her delirious when it reached its peak. Rachel had been wandering aimlessly along an inner city boulevard – she didn't pay attention to the names of them anymore – when it had happened. The weather was sweltering; no breeze from the bay reached her here in between the towering walls of skyscrapers. She was passing by a magazine and snack stall when she saw a young man - probably her own age - ask for a Snickers bar. For some reason, still unbeknownst to her, the simple mention of the candy bar had triggered the memory of the ad accompanied with the catch-phrase "_You're not you when you're hungry_."

Rachel had laughed quietly to herself at the cruel irony. _Of all the phrases in the world…_ She mused. Rachel let out a small chuckle again, repeated the saying in her head in a sing-song way, like a child would._ You're not you when you're hungry_! The chuckle slowly grew to a delighted cackle as she indulged in the simple pleasure of laughter. It felt so foreign to her now! The strange bubbles of air that made its way from her belly, tickled her throat, and cascaded from her mouth in the form of sound. How long had it been since she had last laughed? She paused abruptly, thinking for a few seconds before realising she couldn't remember a time when! Her laughter escalated, drawing disturbed gazes from passer-by's. The cackles became more panicked as she walked further and further away from the snack stall. She clutched at her chest, feeling the sharply irregular rise and fall of it as she gasped desperately for air in between bouts of hysteria.

How could she not remember? Wasn't there a time before having to forage for scraps? Before having to sleep accompanied by a family of spiders in an abandoned factory attic? Had McKinley High been real? Or just a product of psychosis? Had there ever really been a Glee club called "New Directions"? A handsome quarter-back named Finn Hudson or a fashion-savvy counter-tenor known as Kurt Hummel?

Rachel could no longer tell. And it was this fact frightened her more than any threat of starvation ever could.

Rachel threw her head back and let out a wail of despair at the life – imaginary or not – that she had lost. Her voice cracked, it was nothing more than a shadow of what it once had been. … Had been? But hadn't it always been this way? Choking sobs shook her fragile frame.

Her delirium was beginning to decrease now though, leaving her shaky and unstable. Randomly it reminded her of getting off a thrilling roller coaster at Six Flags, and finally setting foot on solid ground only to find yourself too dizzy to stand. And stand she didn't. Rachel Berry collapsed, exhausted beside what was, unintentionally, her salvation.


End file.
